


turpentine

by traineecorps



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Underage Drinking, uhhh lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 00:17:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12310875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traineecorps/pseuds/traineecorps
Summary: “hey kirsch-” she hiccups. “…stein, you ever miss wherever the fuck you’re from?”





	turpentine

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell i haven’t read snk in 4 years. hhh idk where i’m going with this i guess this’ll be part of like… other jeansasha drabbles. idk i just had hankering for jeansasha all of a sudden.

She’s drunk as hell. Her laugh is loud enough to wake up all the trainees and the squad leaders. Loud enough to bust them for drinking. Sasha wipes her mouth as her giggles subside, laced with a few snorts here and there.  
“Jesus, Sash.” Jean comments. “Where the hell did you learn to drink like that?”  
“Dauper people basically drink fucking turpentine,” Sasha begins. Her motions are exaggerated as she tries to steady herself. She had been reeling with laughter, after all. She wags her hand for emphasis and the mule mug sloshes. Cheap alcohol stains her white pants. “Vodka isn’t any challenge.”  
When Sasha had pulled him aside earlier that day, Jean didn’t know what to expect. They were in line for lunch at the mess hall. Sasha grabbed his shirt sleeve and tugged him away from the roast beef and potato stew. Jean hadn’t had beef since he’d left home.  
“They’re serving beef today. This better be good.” Jean frowned as Sasha fiddled with her skirt pockets. Sasha produced a small key and shoved it in Jean’s hand.  
“Connie’s gonna raid the liquor cabinet in the rations shed.” Sasha smirked.  
So now Jean’s stuck doing night watch and sitting in a rickety chair drinking the absolute dregs of crap vodka while Sasha howls and crows at her own jokes. Sasha’s knee deep in some story about some kid from her hometown.  
“He didn’t even,” Sasha breathes between guffaws. “He didn’t even realize that he left his goddamn uniform at home.”  
Jean hmms and hahs at the right pauses but he’s already tuned her out. Sasha goes quiet.  
“Hey Kirsch-” She hiccups. “...stein, you ever miss wherever the fuck you’re from?” Sasha extends her arm and jostles the mug in her hand with every word. More alcohol spills out and lands in the space between the two of them.  
“Trost.” Jean grumbles immediately.  
“What?” Sasha takes a swig of vodka.  
“I’m from Trost.”  
“Oh. I’m from Dauper.”  
“I know.”  
They sit in silence for a while again. Jean’s sure Sasha forgot her train of thought when she asks him again.  
“Um… sometimes I guess. I miss my mom. My brothers.” Jean rakes a hand through his hair. “Maman runs the family bakery now. My dad’s gone.”  
“I miss sitting in the snow waiting for the sun to rise.” Sasha blurts out. “I miss roasting whatever we caught in the traps over the fire.”  
She takes a cautious sip from her mug. “You said you had brothers?”  
“Yeah… Laurent and Evgeni. Ev was in the Garrison. Stationed in Stanlow.”  
“Wasn’t that near…”  
“Shinganshina. Yeah.”  
Jean doesn’t have to say what happened. Sasha already knows.  
“It damn near killed Maman when they sent the letter.” Jean trails off. Sasha fiddles with the six-pointed star locket around her throat.  
“Do you think we’ll ever be able to go back?” Sasha asks. Her voice is small and thin against the cool night air.  
“Home?” Jean replies.  
“Well, yeah… but… I don’t know. Before the war I guess. Before everything,” Sasha waves her arm in a large sweeping motion. “Basically went to shit.”  
“Me too.” Jean doesn’t look at Sasha. He looks out over the empty fields behind them.

* * *

 

After the fires claim most of Trost and parts of Karanese, the 104th’s assigned with cleanup and to report any survivors. Jean gets teamed up with Noemi and Abhishek and of course, Sasha. The four of them meet up at the city center before going their separate ways. Jean decides to go through one of the back alleys past where Maqsud’s Apothecary used to be.  
“Jean!” Sasha calls out after him. Jean turns around to see Sasha running towards him. Her thick auburn hair bounces with every forceful step.  
Jean grunts a hello. Sasha doesn’t say anything in response and falls in silent step with him. They exit the alleyway and come across rubble. Sasha attempts to clear out a section of the rubble but the heavy cement doesn’t budge.  
“Hey, can you give me a hand?” Sasha shouts at Jean. Jean comes forward and starts to tug at the crumbled remains of buildings. Dust swirls around the two. Jean finally pulls out a piece of the awning.  
“Fuck…” Jean reads the name on the awning. Margrethe’s Bake Shop. “Are we on Romlam?”  
Sasha checks the paper map passed out during debriefing. “Yeah.”  
“Fuck fuck fuck.” Jean whispers. “Fuck!” He hisses.  
“What… what’s wrong?” Sasha stumbles after him.  
Jean’s running. He doesn’t care that he keeps tripping on rocks and broken cobblestone streets. He’s running and running until he hits the hollowed out remains of his family home. Then he collapses.  
Sasha catches up to him. She finds him scrunched up in a ball on the ground and he’s sobbing. She doesn’t ask him what this place is. She doesn’t ask him what it means to him. She doesn’t ask him what he told his mother the last time he saw her. She doesn’t ask him about how Laurent’s only 10 and how he was about to start secondary school. She just falls to her knees besides him and takes him into her arms.

**Author's Note:**

> also can y'all tell sasha is jewish. thanks to erin!!


End file.
